


A Cure For Boredom

by Saucery



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Begging, Charles You Slut, Cock Tease, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Ficlet, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Humor, In Public, In Which the Beach Never Happened and Erik is Roped Into Publicity Stunts, Inappropriate Erections, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Art, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Poor Erik, Porn, Press Conference, Press and Tabloids, Public Relations, Sexual Fantasy, Short, Smut, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pubic relations are very important. Sorry, I meant public relations. Whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cure For Boredom

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://dwaroxxx.tumblr.com/post/88875266406/charming-charlie-thinking-pretty-thoughts) amazing fanart.

* * *

 

They're at another one of those interminable press conferences, with Charles being his usual irresistible self, seducing the press with his charm and his warmth and his ridiculous optimism. Erik does his best not to scowl, or to crumple every goddamn camera in the room into scrap metal. Instead, he focuses on "behaving". Charles had lectured him on the importance of humans perceiving mutants as friendly, and had instructed Erik to smile tastefully, but not to grin--apparently, Erik's grin is as menacing as a shark's.

Erik hopes his smile hasn't thinned into a grimace. It certainly  _feels_  like a grimace, aching and tight. It's difficult to hold a smile for so long. He wonders how Charles manages it. The bastard. Maybe his facial muscles are a mutation, as well, capable of withstanding an eternity of pointless, stupidly attractive smiling.

Just when Erik's considering setting everyone's watches forward by fifty minutes, thereby making them believe that the conference has ended,  _it_  happens.

"It" being the sudden appearance of an utterly pornographic image in his mind.

An image starring none other than Charles Xavier, face-down on a familiar bed (Erik's; the carved headboard is easily recognizable), with his hands fisting in the sheets and a flush spilling across his back.

A voice--Erik's, and nothing but a hoarse rasp--commands Charles to reach behind himself and spread his ass wide. Charles obeys instantly, with none of the playful resistance he normally gives Erik, when he's trying to frustrate Erik into being rougher with him. This time, Charles spreads himself like a good boy, and that's what Erik calls him, just to see him shiver.

Ah, but Charles is beautiful like this, open for inspection, sweet and pliable, tears glittering on his eyelashes. He's wet between his legs, lube and saliva gleaming obscenely around his hole and trickling down to his balls. It seems that Erik has been rimming him and fingering him--possibly for hours--which explains Charles's uncharacteristic obedience. He's had as much foreplay as he can take. He wants to be fucked, very badly, wants Erik in him desperately enough to beg for it.

Erik tells him to, and is rewarded by a stream of jumbled, frantic begging, by pleas so filthy that Erik is somewhat stunned by them. It always surprises him that Charles--refined, eloquent Charles--can be reduced to this, or perhaps  _uplifted_  to it, because Charles is incandescently free when he's naked and needy, his body flame-hot and glowing with sweat, words like "fuck" and "cock" and "in me, Erik, please, please,  _please_ " dropping from his lips without hesitation.

 _This is what I look like, to you_ , says Charles in his mind, far too calm and tinged with amusement.  _You think I'm 'pretty'._

Erik blinks, slowly returning to awareness, only to realize that he has been staring slack-jawed into the distance, his eyes no doubt glazed over. He also happens to be blindingly hard, his erection mercifully shielded by the tablecloth. The media would have a field day with a mutant aroused by its attention. Further along the table, Charles is still talking smoothly into his microphone, without a hitch, going on about equality and fairness and social issues Erik couldn't care less about at the moment. Fucker.

 _Well, technically, you're the_   _fucker_ , Charles says.  _More often than not._   _I thought you needed a distraction from this terrible conference; you looked about ready to kill someone_.

 _I_ will _kill someone_ , Erik growls, mentally.  _You._

 _The little death, I'm sure_ , Charles says, dismissively. A slight smirk curls his lush, sinful mouth before it vanishes back into innocuous friendliness, a split second before a reporter asks him if he's single. As if that is at all relevant.

"Oh, I'm taken," Charles replies, and thinks:  _Regularly. Thoroughly._  His eyebrows quirk mischievously. "That doesn't mean I don't appreciate the lovely letters I've been receiving."

The journalist titters, and goes on to pose absolutely inane questions about how Charles has been coping with being a sex symbol. Charles answers with customary glibness, making his audience laugh without actually saying anything meaningful. He's made for this, isn't he? Politics. Diplomacy. Maybe he'll wind up running for office. God help them.

Erik is shocked when he, too, is asked the sex symbol question--what, are people mad? Don't they remember his past actions?--but Raven rescues him from it by claiming that her fan club's bigger than his is, no pun intended, which is naturally followed by the inevitable dick joke from Logan and a requisite, embarrassed blush from Hank. Charles frowns mildly at Logan for the inappropriate language, but given the way Charles has just been cursing in Erik's dream-memory-vision, he's a bloody hypocrite.

At last, the torture session is concluded, and the mutants are allowed to escape. They don't make it more than a few steps into the corridor outside the hall before Erik drags Charles into the nearest empty closet and locks it.

"What, couldn't wait to get home?" Charles teases, wrapping his arms around Erik's neck.

Erik silences him with a kiss.

 

* * *

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Follow me on [Tumblr](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


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